


F.

by sapphireswimming



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Celestial Being has some misgivings about their strike team, Gen, Gen Work, Humor, Krung Thep (Gundam 00), One Shot, Pre-Canon, Setsuna F. Seiei is Setsuna F. Seiei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming
Summary: Veda didn't tell them what it stood for.
Kudos: 7





	F.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PuppetMaster55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/gifts).



> Originally posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12011340/1/F
> 
> This was written in response to Puppetmaster55's ask on tumblr: okay but what if the F in Setsuna F Seiei doesn't actually stand for anything, and it's just, like, there for the aesthetic. Like how some writers add an initial to their name to sound more fancy.
> 
> With fanart (of sorts) [here](https://sapphireswimming.tumblr.com/post/146189629379/based-on-this-and-this)

Celestial Being would not exist without Veda. It simply couldn't. It was too important, too essential to every single thing they did.

Aeolia Schindberg had left it to them, bequeathing in one super powered operating system his undying wish to radically change the world and the technological genius to see it through even centuries after he was gone.

Veda was everything—their eyes in every corner of the world, the analytical machine able to calculate the trends of men and governments on every continent, the chief architect of each new Gundam's prototype, the recruiter of their invaluable secret members, and the brain and top strategist behind each of their proposed operations.

Veda was Aeolia Schindberg's legacy, and certainly the only way they could survive, let alone flourish in the safety of Krung Thep long enough to believe they actually had a chance to eliminate conflict from this world.

As such, it was the highest authority and the most knowledgeable source on every subject.

Veda was unquestionable.

That didn't mean they didn't want to, sometimes.

Especially once they began gathering together their strike team for the most crucial phase of the plan. The rag tag group of individuals Veda put forth for recruitment were… less than ideal. At least on paper.

In person, they were an absolute mess.

The woman who was supposed to be their strike team's tactical forecaster spent nearly the first week in space crying alone, holed up in her new cabin, finally emerging only to search for the alcohol.

Their blitz pilot seemed scared of his own shadow, skittish whenever a door hissed closed or anyone tried to make eye contact, and he talked to himself whenever he thought he was alone.

Then there was the awkward mousy-haired teenage boy with the bright smile that no one really knew what to do with, but that Veda vaguely reassured them would be useful somewhere.

Some of the others were alright, they supposed.

Their hacker sure knew her stuff, impressing the technicians at Krung Thep as easily as she was able to make them laugh. The sniper, after a few rounds of closely monitored simulations, actually proved himself as good as Veda had predicted—the best in the world, the report had said, and now they believed it. And the purple haired meister, despite being the most cold-hearted, insufferable tyrant of a know-it-all any of them had ever met, would certainly pull his own weight and stick to the plan.

The fourth pilot seemed to be the last straw, however, when it turned out to be a scrappy Middle Eastern orphan who didn't share any language with anyone in Celestial Being and was barely taller than Feldt.

They wondered then, if there had been a mistake. If Veda had malfunctioned, or was finally giving out on them after two centuries of being essential to their every move. They shuddered to even contemplate the possibility, and floundered as they tried to think of what a back up plan for such an eventuality would even _be_ , but when the entire tactical strike team accepted the new member into their ranks—with varying degrees of uncertainty, to be sure—they had to follow suit.

And if they accepted Veda's personnel choice of the drunk and the crazy and the kid, then they weren't going to put up a fight about the codenames that it spit out at them.

They hadn't been able to do anything about Lockon Stratos, years ago when the Irishman sputtered and asked them _what kind of a name was that_ , so they were relieved when Setsuna F. Seiei didn't put up any fuss about his new name, and didn't ask what the middle initial stood for.

They were sure Veda knew. But it didn't divulge the secret, staying defiantly silent on the subject no matter how many times they prompted the console.

Veda neither confirmed nor denied that the F. stood for Felix, Fakir, or Fyodor. Or Fai, or Fu, or Fitz.

One tecchie finally suggested that it might not stand for a name at all, but might be a particular foul-mouthed phrase they had been using quite often of late, as the late hours and the frustrating choice of new recruits made the tensions run high as the impending deadline of their start date loomed steadily nearer.

They passed their hands over their faces and wondered when their life had devolved to this point, arguing with sleep deprived co-workers and an all knowing but stubborn computer terminal over a mysterious middle initial that honestly had nothing to do with them.

Veda said it was an "F." and that would have to be enough.

It had sort of a ring to it— Setsuna F. Seiei.

It certainly tripped off the tongue much more easily than Setsuna Seiei did. Or than Setsuna Frank Seiei would have. Perhaps it was best to leave well enough alone. What did the F. matter anyway? Knowing what it stood for wouldn't actually help anyone. A single letter was of no consequence in the course of world events, after all.

And the fourth meister accepted it with a tight nod, showing no curiosity in his seemingly incomplete name, but readily turning to respond to it even when he didn't understand any of the words that followed.

Months passed and their newest member had assimilated enough to their common language and the organization that most of the crew that was to man the Ptolomaios called him Setsuna—as much of a nickname as they could get to stick on such a serious, single-minded kid.

But he still used his name in its entirety. Signed his reports and introduced himself to outliers on the base as Setsuna F. Seiei.

A few of them, the ones who still remained outgoing and personable despite the secretive nature of their current line of work, asked what it stood for. Just to make conversation when he didn't take their outstretched hands.

He stared back, not saying a word, until they finally got the hint and either got to the point or got going.

It didn't matter that he didn't know his whole name, or that the information in his file didn't shed any light on the subject. It didn't matter that everyone who met him wondered the same exact thing or that it was a topic of conversation across the entire base.

It didn't even really matter what Veda had decided it was, deep in the recesses of its operating system, or why it chosen not to divulge the rest of his middle name.

Exia's pilot was Setsuna F. Seiei.

Simple as that.


End file.
